Sempre Libera
by Sopran
Summary: Christine based character study. "All she had wanted was to sing, to be on the stage, to make her father proud. And yet... "


**Sempre Libera  
**Un-beta'ed. A character study, primarily Leroux based. Christine's voice type is based on Christina Nilsson.

* * *

How had things gone so wrong? All she had wanted was to sing, to be on the stage, to make her father proud.

And yet...

Now she was plotting to escape the opera house with a man she'd loved as a child but could not honestly say she loved now, by proxy plotting to kill the man who gave her her voice. She agreed to marry a man knowing she'd never sing on the stage again.

What went wrong?

Was it when her Angel - no, Erik - had kidnapped her? Was it when she first heard his voice, believing him sent by her father? Was it when she accepted Raoul's invitation to dinner?

Had it always just been wrong?

She didn't hate Erik. How could she? He'd taught her everything she knew, everything worthwhile knowing. He shared his passion for music, instilled it in her, and aided her towards her dream.

It didn't mean she wasn't terrified of the man-monster. She undoubtedly was. He was, frankly, insane, and that insanity scared her. He was murderous and vindictive, not above hurting her to have her. And it was enough to send her running from everything she loved.

Raoul was not, perhaps, the man she would've chosen to marry, had she much of a choice. But he would protect her and give her a stable life in exchange for Erik's head and her dreams and sometimes, she thought it was a reasonable price to pay. He was cruel in different ways, but he wasn't crazy and he had enough sense of propriety to know where the line was drawn. Perhaps he was a drunk and occasionally sharp tongued, but there was a tenderness in those times of nostalgia and he cared for her enough (and lusted for her enough as well) for her to let it slide. Marriage would not be the happy comfort of her parents, but it would be safe. She would be alive.

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? If she stayed, if she'd spurned Raoul, Erik would still be insane and she would still be forced to make this decision down the road. Until he died, she would never escape him. She would never be happy.

She supposed she wouldn't be happy either way. Under the thumb of a madman or in a loveless marriage, she was doomed to unhappiness. And while she would still be performing if controlled by Erik, she would have zero say in her own life, as she had been since coming under his tutelage. At least with Raoul, she would have no worries and an illusion of independence.

The plan would be set into action during the production of Gounod's Faust. Presently, the company was wrapping up Verdi's La Traviata, and she couldn't wait for it to be over.

Verdi was, of course, a genius and his music beyond beautiful, but if only she had been allowed to play Annina, she would have enjoyed it more. She remembered arguing with Erik (as much as one can argue with Erik) over his insistence that she sing Violetta if the company must produce the show. However, no protesting of her youth and vocal immaturity would change his mind, not even mention that La Carlotta would much better fit the character.

Ironically, her favorite aria was "Sempre libera." If only.

Now, she stood just off stage as the pit began to warm up. She ignored Carlotta's dirty looks as she always did - the woman would hate her regardless of what she said. She didn't blame her - it was only because of Erik that she was Violetta, not by any means of her own. A twenty-one year old woman should not be singing the role and the company knew it. As talented as she was, her voice was still too young. It was a wonder why Erik wouldn't agree that this was straining her young cords.

The make up on her face felt too heavy, the dress too bare and dark. Violetta stood off-stage, not Christine, and Christine felt as though Violetta would consume her, her darkness and age and disillusionment overpowering Christine's innate innocence. Violetta was no ingenue and Christine felt more jaded in her skin than usual. The jewelry hung around her wrists and neck like shackles, her chains held by a disfigured man who contained no sympathy.

Yet, as the orchestra began to play the prelude, she could feel her spirits lifting. The music flowed through her heart, her soul, and she felt buoyed by it. She allowed herself to become the Violetta of the first act, who had no cares but throwing elaborate parties and enjoying life. The hardened Violetta of act three could wait her turn.

Up in the flies crept her master. In the audience sat her future jailer. But here, on the stage, she had no master, no jailer, because Violetta was unchained and free.

Violetta wished that this act would never end, that she would be forever carefree.

But this was Verdi, and Christine knew it would all come to an end.


End file.
